The Fight
by soulwriter5
Summary: Mmk, so Spence and Ash get in this huge fight and there's hella depression afterward. Wanna know what happened? Read the story. Wanna see a happy ending? Review the story.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hey guys, I know, I know, I shouldn't be starting **another **story while I've got 4 others still on hiatus. I've got a short attention span. Sue me. I'm trying. No worries though, it's summer now so the stories should be coming up at tenfold the speed they have been. Which isn't good, but hell, its better than what it is now. Mmk. Onto the story. Yeah, it's angsty. Only in the beginning though. Also, you might notice that this is a different writing style, completely off from what I have been doing. Let me clarify, I started this **years **ago. As a different story. But I never finished. So now I'm putting it to good use as a Spence/Ashley story. You'll be confuzzled at first. No worries, I clear everything up in the oncoming chapters. That said…READ. And review porfavor._

_Disclaimer: I can't even afford Taco Bell, so it goes without saying that I don't own SON. Tom Lynch does. Probably because he has a cool name. Tom Lynch. Maybe you have to have a cool name to own stuff like this. I think I might change my name. I dunno, I'll let you know if I do. Also, yes, I did get the poem from 10 Things I Hate About You. I couldn't help it. It fits. I think._

Spencer:

Depressed? I'm not depressed. I couldn't be depressed. I'm fine. So I didn't want dinner last night…or the night before, I just wasn't hungry. So I've been a little withdrawn…I just have a lot on my mind right now. It's no big deal. Everything's okay. Fine. I'm Okay. I am notdepressed.

Three days. It's been three days. I can't believe it's been three days. I mean, not that I care. It's her fault. It's all her fault. She shouldn't have started that fight. She shouldn't have said those things. They weren't true. She's the reason we got in the fight, and she's the reason we're not talking. It's her fault. I can't believe it's been three days.

Ugh, my mother is going to nag me into an early grave. Doesn't she know I'm fine? Because I am. I'm fine. So my grades are slipping a bit…for god's sake woman, it's only a 'B'! I am sooo sorry I'm not the golden child you always wanted. And I'm still not hungry, so will she just drop it? She says she's worried, but I know it's just a generic doctor-kind-of-worry. A doctor/mother's worry. If she was anyone else, she wouldn't have cared. I am not depressed.

Wow, there's a lot about me that I didn't know. Until now anyway. Like, now, I know that I really, really hate my father for setting up an appointment with a therapist, from _his _office, for _me_. He thinks I'm depressed. I am not depressed.

I know even more now. I know I'm never going downstairs again. I know I am very opposed to the words "and how does that make you feel?" I am so opposed to them that if I hear them one more time, may god have mercy on the soul that mentioned them in my presence. They just don't understand. Don't care. No one does. No one ever does. She probably doesn't. No, scratch that. I _know_ she doesn't.

My grades are taking a nose-dive. I know I should be worried, that I should be doing something to stop it…but I'm not and I don't. The counselor wants to talk to me about my 'problems'. She thinks I'm depressed. I am not depressed. I should probably be angry, but I'm not. Actually, I'm not feeling anything. Not a single emotion. It's like I'm empty. Void. Then, I passed her in the hall today and she wouldn't even look at me. It tore me apart.

Okay, so maybe I'm a _little_ depressed. All I know is that I am miserable out of my mind. It's like my whole life is just one big, dull ache. I feel hungry, but the sight of food makes me sick. I haven't been speaking to anyone, nor do I want to. I don't want their pity. I don't care about the worried looks I'm getting. The teachers, my parents, my other friends, my grades…none of them matter anymore. Hell, I can barely function properly. I just wish things would go back to the way they were before.

They almost did too. Almost. But they didn't because I felt like being stupid and stubborn. I didn't even give her a chance. I had seen her in the hall, she was talking to one of her friends. Until she noticed I was there and smiled at me. I love that smile and yearned to smile back, but as usual, I just stood there, stock still…staring at her. She probably thinks I'm a freak. Or Looney. Like everyone else. It's hurt most because she knows me better than anybody I've ever met… and even she thinks I've lost it. I thought she knew me better. Apparently, I was wrong.

I was so deep in thought that I didn't even notice she had walked over until she was waving her hand in front of my face. What the hell. What…does she think I'm three or something? I scowled at her. "What do you want?" I asked her angrily. She had no right to be over here. Well, yes, technically, she did, but I wasn't thinking about that at the time. She looked taken aback, like I had slapped her or something, and I had to hold back a smirk. She probably hadn't expected that. But then she just stood there mouth agape, staring at me. I knew if I didn't say something, she never would. "Well?" I demanded. She was really starting to grade on my nerves. "Well, I…uh…I -I wanted- that is to say-" She stuttered stupidly. What an idiot. I couldn't stand her at that second. I knew that was a lie. I loved having her just stand there in front of me, shrinking under my glare. But my pride wouldn't let me admit it. Suddenly, she shook her head side to side like a wet dog. She looked at me once more then leveled my glare with a nervous gaze/serious glare kind of thing and said "Never mind." And then she walked away. All that for nothing? I think not, but I'm not about to chase her down to find out what it is.

Silence is golden. It's all I can think about. I didn't even bother to go to school today…not that anyone would miss me. Besides I don't think I could make it another day with her in the same building, while knowing I won't be going to her house after school. We won't talk about our day, or discuss homework problems, or watch movies and hang out or anything… at all. It usually didn't matter as long as we were together.

The silence is relaxing and suffocating at the same time. I feel like the silence if deafening, as if provoking me to, at any moment, explode…pour all my hurt and pain out into the open. But it won't help any, I know no one's listening. Other times, I realize that I've never known a silence like this before. It's soothing, relaxing, like nothing else exists except me and my thoughts.

The doorbell rang. Not that I care, but I went to answer it all the same. There was no one there. But really, could I blame them? I mean, who, in there right mind, would want to be caught talking to _me_. I'm not stupid. I can hear them whispering about me everywhere, in the halls, during class, after school…they're calling me the Looney chick. Madison was probably the mastermind behind this one. It probably should bother me, but it doesn't. I passed right by her today and she didn't even acknowledge I was even there. I can't go on like this…

Ashley:

It's been three days. The longest three days of my life. I can't believe I've managed this long without losing it. I thought that since I was so used to her presence, I would barely be able to do anything right since our fight. But I have and I am. I fine.

Man, who am I kidding? The last couple of days have been a living hell without her. I miss her terribly. I miss her coming over and talking to me, asking me about my day and telling me about hers, helping me with my homework, and just plain _being_ there.

Why did I do it? Huh? Why would I go and start a fight like that with her? I am such an idiot. I couldn't even look at her in the hall today, I was so scared that she would look happy... ecstatic, even, that she would have that carefree look on her face that she always used to get when we used to hang out. Except she wouldn't be with me, she'd be with her other friends. She's probably forgotten all about me by now and just the thought terrifies me.

But I was right. And I think she knows that. I think that's why she fought about it. She knew I was right and she hated it. But I had to tell her. No one deserves what happened to her, what was _going _to happen to her. I was only trying to help. She should have known that. Why didn't she _know _that?

Yesterday was the first time I've seen her all week. I was talking to one of the kids in my English class, getting the homework, when someone bumped into me…I didn't even know it was her until she had passed. I wanted –needed- to talk to her, so I followed her, careful to keep my distance, waiting for a chance to talk. But something was wrong. The way she looked…it was like someone had sucked the life out of her. She walked like she was half asleep, dragging her feet, swaying slightly, but looking like she didn't really care…with an almost dead appeal. She looked gaunt, like a zombie. I had to talk to her.

I called out to her and she turned around. She just stared at me as I smiled and began walking over to her. The look of shock on her face astounded me. Did she really think I was never going to talk to her? Did she think I wouldn't want to be her friend anymore? She didn't listen when those other kids called her loony…did she? I sincerely hoped she didn't. If she did, I would make sure she knew that those kids couldn't tell a banana from a bus and not to listen to a word they said. She hadn't responded yet as I walked up to stand in front of her, so I waved my hand in front of her face in a friendly gesture to get her attention. Seeming to snap out of her reverie, she looked at me and her shocked look quickly became a scowl. Uh oh. "What do you want?" She asked angrily. Oh man, if looks could kill, I would've been long dead. The last time she looked at me like that was when I broke her most favorite doll when we were five. "Well?" she demanded impatiently and I suddenly noticed that I had just been standing there dumbly staring at her. "Well, I…uh…I –I wanted- that is to say-" I stuttered nervously, also noticing my sudden lack of nerve. "Spit it out." She said menacingly, her sharp gaze meeting mine. I knew this wasn't going to work. Not here anyways. I would stop by her house tomorrow and sort it out then. Until then…"Nevermind." And I walked away.

She wasn't at school that day. I hoped to every higher power out there that she was okay. I didn't know what I'd do if something happened to her. The next thing I knew, I was on her door step. Again. I raised a fist to knock on the door, but it wouldn't move. I figured if I stood there long enough, I would eventually get up the guts to knock…but after 30 minutes, I opted to ring the door bell.

Silence. That's what I heard. Nothing. It was almost deafening. But I knew she was home and after a couple of minutes, I started to hear some slight shuffling. She was coming. All the sudden, a panic filled my gut, all thoughts fled my mind, I didn't know what to do and it scared me…so I ran for it. I ran over to a nearby bush and ducked down. As I was looking over the top of the bush I knew that even though I could see her, she couldn't see me.

She answered the door, looking as tired and worn out as the other day. Her hair was mussed, dark circles filled the area below her eyes, and a solemn expression where her beautiful smile used to be. I suddenly had the urge to run over to her and pull her into my arms, whispering sweet nothings into her ear…_I'm sorry…it'll be okay…I was wrong to throw that on you…it'll never happen again…I promise._

But I couldn't and it was killing me. She was just my friend, right? Wait were we? I hadn't even stopped to think about it. Were we still friends? Of course we were…well, at least I thought so. Did she still want to be friends with me? I didn't think I could handle it if she didn't, she was such a big part of who I am. I have to do something…something to remind her that I care…that I'd always be there…but what?

We were in class when it came to me. I hate the way it did, but it did. We had to do a poem based on something-or-other that Shakespeare said…I don't really know…I wasn't paying attention. I felt a pang of guilt. I had been relying on her giving me the notes because she had class with me.

The thing was that we had to read our poems in front of the class. He picked her to read hers. She didn't want to. He argued with her. I could tell it hurt her to argue with a teacher which meant there was something emotional in her poem that she didn't want other people knowing. I was ready to beat him into next week for doing that to her. Screw the fact that he's a teacher or the fact that I'd probably go to jail. No one does that to my best friend. But before I got the chance, she stood up, took her place in the front of the class and read:

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots.

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

She paused and looked directly at me. I could feel my heart breaking from the look in her eyes.

I hate it...

I hate the way you're always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh;

Even worse when you make me cry.

She began to cry as she continued to read and I suddenly felt that strong urge to just run up, pull her into my arms and brush away her tears.

I hate it when you're not around

And the fact that you didn't call,

But mostly I hate the way I don't hate you;

Not even close;

Not even a little bit;

Not even at all.

And with that she took off, I could tell she was crying and my heart broke into a million pieces. But then I knew what I had to do. I have to prove to her that she's still the most important person in my life. I knew what to do.


	2. Resolutions already? Haha Good one

_A/N: See? Told you! Updates galore. Here's the next chapter of 'The Fight'. R&R porfavor._

_A/N2: Also, the italics in the story lines are the character's subconscious, something like their conscience. Basically, the characters are talking to themselves. S'weird. I know. Go with it._

_A/N3: Also Again, there is a lot of actual monologue in this chapter. Sorry._

_Disclaimer: Tom Lynch owns 'em cuz he's wicked cool. That is all._

**Spencer:**

No, no, no, no, no! She wasn't supposed to hear that poem! I didn't know we'd have to read them in class! I can't take this, I saw the look on her face. I know she doesn't want this either. Why am I putting myself through this? Why am I putting both of us through this? Why can't I just admit she was right, I know she is, I just…I don't want to accept it. She couldn't be right, there's just no way.

I couldn't tell if it was my own suddenly self-imposed anger or embarrassment or sadness, but somehow, my feet ran me all the way home. I almost slammed into the front door. But I didn't. I reached it, turned around and slid down the frame, tears streaked across my cheeks. How could she have done this? How could she have this to us? Why couldn't she just let sleeping dogs lay? _Because she cares about you._ No, if she did care about me, she wouldn't have said those things. _But they were the truth. She was only telling you because she cares about you and doesn't want to see you hurt. _Too late for that. _But this hurt, this is your fault. You decided to take what she told you this way. _No. It's her fault. _No it's not._

I didn't know how long I had been sitting on the stoop. It didn't really matter, no one came home. Glen was probably somewhere knocking up Madison. Clay was probably somewhere arguing with Sean. Mom is probably sucking face with Dr. Homewrecker and Dad is probably still at the office working himself to the bone so he can pretend the problems he's having with mom aren't affecting him.

Must've been a while. Before I knew it, a regrettably familiar Porsche Cayenne pulled up into the driveway. And she stepped out. She is coming to talk to me. I know she is. I want to get up and run. I don't want to be here. I want to be _anywhere _but here. What if she's coming to laugh at how pathetic my poem made me? No, I can't handle that. I can't. My feet finally made to move and I was up and opening the door before I was even having a coherent thought. My coherent thought was a hard one to decipher. _Run. _

My fear must've been written all over my face because before I even got halfway through the door frame, she caught me by my elbow.

"Don't run." _Don't run? What does she expect? That I'm just going to sit here and let her ruin my life some more? _"Please, don't run Spence."

Suddenly, everything stopped and I turned around to meet the sad, withdrawn look that had dawned on her features. "Why?" The ice in my voice made even me question if I had really said that.

But she wasn't deterred that easily. "I need to talk to you. I need you to hear me."

"It always was about you wasn't it." Wow. Maybe I could pageant for Ice Princess.

There was that look again. The one that looked like she'd just been slapped.

"This wasn't –isn't- about me and you know it." She replied calmly, sounding almost as though she were holding back tears. I almost felt sorry for being as harsh as I knew I was being.

Almost.

As in. Not. I didn't. And I was about to let her know.

"Really? Interesting. Maybe you'd care to _explain._"

"Spence, please, I just want to talk to—"

Okay, now. Now I was gonna let it all out. All my frustrations and sadness, it was all channeled into my anger.

"_TALK? YOU WANT TO TALK? OKAY, LET'S TALK." _I knew we were still outside in broad daylight, but somehow, that didn't faze me. She wanted to talk to me, we were gonna talk. Wait, scratch that. I was gonna talk and she was gonna listen.

"Let's talk about how you ruined it. How _you _**ruined **_us. _You couldn't just let sleeping dogs lie could you? No, you had to go and ripple the water, didn't you? You weren't getting enough attention and that was just a ploy for it wasn't it? You thought that I'd come running straight into your arms and you'd just _hold _me, didn't you? This was how you were going to get us together weren't you? It was all just part of some sick plan, wasn't it? You don't even really care about me, do you?"

Well, if she was sad before, she sure as hell wasn't now. She looked as though she was shaking…with anger. Good. I want her to feel angry. I want her to feel as angry as I am and I want her to know that she is the reason. She was the cause. That it is her fault.

Apparently, she had other plans.

**Ashley:**

So this is what she thinks, huh? But, of course, I should have seen this coming. Of course she wouldn't believe me; it went against everything she believed in. Against everything she grew up with. Stupid of me to think that, as her best friend and supposed closest confidant, she'd actually _believe _me. No. Of course she'd think it was all just a ploy to get in her pants. Because I'm Ashley. The girl her mother despises with all the love she has for the devil himself.

Honestly, I should have seen this coming. Why I didn't is beyond me. Maybe I'd just hoped she'd not take it the way she did. Maybe I did think she'd run into my arms, that maybe I could hold her. It certainly wasn't _why _I told her. I told her because she's my best friend. Because I care about her. Because I care about her more than I've ever cared about anyone in my entire life and we not even together. I don't know. I don't know what I was thinking.

That's a lie.

I know exactly what I was thinking.

And I **don't **regret it. Not at all.

"So that's what you think? Is that _really _what you think?" I asked her, finally leveling her glare with one of my own.

I saw her wince under the intensity of my eyes boring into hers. Leaving her vulnerable as I had been. But it was only for a second. Then she was back to 'angry Spencer'. Like I'd let this continue.

"Yeah, actually—"

The hell I was.

"SHUT UP."

Then there was shock.

"_Excuse me?"_

"You heard me. I said **shut up**. You're going to listen to me now."

She just looked at me. Well, actually glared at me for a whole five seconds before she took a step back and tried to slam the door. Hell _no._ I was at the door in a heartbeat. Just in time to have the door smash my foot with all the anger coursing through Spencer's small body, which apparently is pretty damn strong.

"_FUCK!"_ I howled at the top of my lungs. It must've taken her a couple of seconds to realize what happened because when she did, everything changed.

"Ashley, oh my god, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. What did I do? Are you ok? Is you're foot okay? Can you move it? Is there any feeling? Oh my god, I'm so sorry Ashley!"

And to think, all I had to do was seriously injure myself and I get more out of her in five seconds flat, than I have in and week and a half.

"_Spencer. Ice NOW." _I demanded as calmly as I could through clenched teeth. I didn't exactly want to talk to have to talk to her like I had been, but damn it, I was in some kind of pain.

"Oh, right! Come on, lean on me and we'll hop you into the living room."

I did and she led me into the oh-so-comforting and, yet, nerve wracking living room in casa de Carlin. Fuck, I could feel it swelling. Was it bleeding? Shit. My mother was _not _going to like this. Spence sat me down on the couch and elevated my foot, then ran, probably the fastest I've ever seen her run, into the kitchen. Probably for ice. I was right. A second later, she was back in the room with me, carrying a big bag of ice while cradling the phone between her shoulder and her ear.

"Yes, _sir,_ I _realize _slamming the door on her foot was not the responsible thing to do---Why I did it should _not _be relevant---WHETHER I AM OR NOT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, _SIR, _SEND THE DAMN AMBULANCE_." _And then she hung up.

"Fuckin' dumbass." She mumbled.

I have to admit, calling an ambulance is not what I expected, but, truth be told, the cussing surprised me more. Calling an ambulance is the good citizen/Christian thing to do, but cussing that certainly _isn't. _Especially for Spencer. She sat down next to my foot and gently guided my foot from the table, where it had been slowly swelling painfully, to her lap where she had laid a couch cushion. She put the ice on my foot, presumably to try and reduce the swelling. I hissed painfully at the frigid touch, today was _not _a good day to be wearing my converse. She looked up at me with regretful eyes. I almost forgave her.

Almost.

"God, Ash, I'm sorry. This is all my fault."

Damn straight it is. If you hadn't been so damn stubborn and listened to me, we wouldn't be in this situation.

"Don't worry about it. It'll heal. Eventually."

I don't hate you. I could never hate you. I'm just really, really, really pissed off.

"Not just about you're foot. I'm sor—"

"Don't. Stop. I don't want to discuss this right now."

She looked down, dejected. Good. _Shut up. You feel bad. Stop being a bitch._

"Sorry, just…let's not concentrate on that right now, we'll talk later. When is the ambulance getting here?" I asked, a bit nicer than I had been.

"Soon, that was them on the phone."

"Really? I had no idea." I said in a friendly, sarcastic voice.

"Haha, such a comedian. Shut up." Then she smiled, it was a small smile, but I knew the hope I saw in her eyes was the same kind that she saw in mine.

Then reality came crashing down and another painful pulse made me painfully aware that my foot was still seriously screwed over.

"Fuck this is my driving foot too."

"I'll drive you where ever you need to be." She offered.

"What? Why?"

"Well, this is my fault…"

"Oh." Here I thought it was because you were my best friend.

"…and you kinda are my best friend."

Damn mind readers.

"Are we?" I want to know.

"Yeah, well, if you want, I mean." She answered tentatively.

"Of course I want!" I tried to leap up. Fucking foot.

"FUCK!" I shouted as the pain returned full force.

"Whoa! Hey! Don't get too worked up, you need to relax until the ambulance gets here.

Just then there was a knock at the door.

"Speak of the devil." She said dryly.

She got up to answer the door and they came barging in.

"You the one with the hurt foot?" Idiot examiner #1 asked gruffly.

"What do you think." I replied.

"Don't give me an attitude."

"Or what?"

I was feeling rebellious.

"Just get on the stretcher."

"Oh sure, let me just get up and walk over to it."

Idiot Examiner #1 nudged Idiot Examiner #2 and they came over and, it might've just been me but I doubt it, picked me up…let's just say, less than appropriately. Whatever, I'll have these shit heads fired before they blink an eye. But right now, I need to see a doctor. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Spencer fuming at the way the guys were treating me, and I knew she'd have a talk with 'mommy dearest' about it, but I could also see that she knew I needed to be at the hospital now more than complaining. _What do you know, even the thought of 'mother superior' leaves a bad taste in my mouth. _

One of the guys turned around to Spencer as they were loading me into the ambulance and asked her if she was coming. She seemed to snap out of whatever world she had been in and quickly confirmed that she was. She climbed into the bus next to me and held my hand. I looked over at her and smiled. _Thanks._

**Spencer:**

_No Problem._

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_A/N: There ya go, Happy? I hope so. Lemme know. I'm kinda hoping for at least 25 reviews before I continue, please and thanks. And if you're following me as an author in general (as in, reading all my stories) then fear not, I'm planning on updating all soon!_

Pooyce. --Alyx.


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